


do you miss me (like i've been missing you)?

by vogonpoetry



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Pining Miya Atsumu, Post-Break Up, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Sad Miya Atsumu, but ya gotta squint a lil LOL, heavily veiled references to sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25706872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogonpoetry/pseuds/vogonpoetry
Summary: with you gone, maybe he does need memories.[ inspired by the chopnotslop remix of dvsn’s “miss me?” ; cross-posted to my tumblr @ c0wisland! ]
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 149





	do you miss me (like i've been missing you)?

_“Do ya miss me,” he breathed into the phone, “like I’ve been missin’ you?”_

Miya Atsumu was seventeen and a little rough around the edges when you taught him what love was.

He hadn’t meant to get so attached. Hadn’t meant for his eyes to dart to yours after every joke, hadn’t meant to start imagining the feeling of your hand in his, hadn’t meant to second-guess every text to you and you _only_.

And yet, he did.

With a touch so gentle that he hadn’t felt it at first, you’d somehow carved a space in his life that only _you_ could fill. It left him speechless. Words couldn’t describe the tautness of his cheeks every time you skipped over with his name dangling off your lips, no doubt to be followed by one of your eccentric quips. Words couldn’t explain what it was that made his head turn in search of your face in the hallways.

Luckily, you could.

“I know you like me, y’know?”

Atsumu choked. “What?” he spluttered, watching your face light up across the lunch table. It suddenly felt as if he were completely hollow, save for thuds of his heart echoing through his chest.

“Yeah. You’re not exactly subtle.”

Crossing his arms, he raised his head up in an unconvincing show of bravado. “I dunno what yer––”

“I like you too, y’know?”

The drumming in his chest sped up. “Then, uh, what’re ya gonna do about that?”

A bubbling laugh fell out your mouth–– one that immediately tugged a soft smile across Atsumu’s own lips.

“What are _you_ gonna do?”

* * *

You were eighteen and pretty as a summer’s day when Miya Atsumu finally let you into his daydreams.

Sounds from the movie playing on the television faded into the background when his brown eyes found yours. Rough fingers fluttered across your skin like hummingbird wings. His hands were warm. “D’ya know how much I love you?” Atsumu murmured, running an index finger along your jaw.

You cocked your head to the side. “‘Course I do.” He never shied from voicing his adoration for you–– from letting everyone know you were _his_ girl, from reminding you that even though you were the one who forced him to confess his feelings, _he_ was the one who fell first. And that he was still falling.

“S’not what I meant,” he chuckled, grazing his hand against your thigh. You shivered. “Can I _show_ you how much I love ya?”

When Atsumu’s muscled body fell against yours over the twin-sized in his dorm, when he stilled his trembling hands by gripping your waist, when the two of you were down to nothing but the sweat on your skin and maybe even _less_ than that–– you think you saw what he’d wanted to show you.

Love eclosed from its chrysalis: a magnificent golden butterfly.

* * *

Miya Atsumu was nineteen and on his way to conquer the world when it fell right into his hands.

_Dear Mr. Miya,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to play for the MSBY Black Jackals for the duration of…_

He turned to you with wide eyes, arm holding the letter falling to his side. “Y/N…” The words died in his throat as you encased him in a bone-crushing hug and shrieked in pure joy.

“Can ya believe it?” he whispered. “God, it’s happenin’. It’s really happenin’.” Realisation finally setting in, he dropped the letter to the floor and cupped your face, kissing you in a crazed frenzy.

“Thank you,” he breathed against your lips. “ _Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…_ ” You laughed, thinking he’d been thanking the V.League.

He hadn’t been, though. It was only because of you that he’d gotten where he was. You, who attended every game no matter how hectic college was. You picked him up when he fell down. Your faith in him was like divine intervention. Often times, he’d wonder how far he would’ve gone if you hadn’t been there to help him every step of the way.

He thought you knew that.

* * *

You were twenty-three and on your path to conquer the world when you saw the fork in the road.

“I’m tired,” you whispered with your head in your hands. Atsumu leaned against the wall, still in his practice clothes, an equally worn-out expression on his face. Behind him, the front door shut. It was midnight.

“Same ‘ere. Coach made us––”

“No, ‘Tsumu, I’m tired of missing you even when you’re around.” He straightened his spine, suddenly feeling more alert.

Uneven breaths sent tremours through your body. “I wake up to you already gone. I get a text from you at lunch and when I text back you don’t respond. I come home to an empty apartment. And I go to sleep to you coming back.” The V.League Division 1 Men’s Volleyball Tournament was set to happen in a few months. Atsumu had tasted the bitterness of defeat once already–– he didn’t plan on coming back for seconds.

Paralysed, he could only stand in the living room with his jaw slightly ajar, a blizzard of sentence fragments whirling around in his mind. Each one of them had “I’m sorry” in it. Each one of them also had “but” following right after. How could he apologise for wanting to be the best? How could he apologise for something he _wanted_ to do?

“It’s your _passion_. What brings purpose to your life. I get that. And I love that you have something you love so much.”

His lungs filled with lead.

“I’d never ask you to give something less than your all. And I know you’d do anything to win the tournament this time. But lately, I’ve been feeling like you aren’t giving _us_ your all. I’m tired of dating your ghost when you’re still alive. Especially with my internship at the firm–– it’s already stressful enough. I can’t handle another four months of this.”

Silence fell over the room.

“Can ya tell me what I can do?” he finally asked, voice strained. “Anythin’. Say it an’ I’ll make it happen.”

Both of you knew he wanted to mean what he said. But this was real life. He was _him_ –– the perfectionist, the strong-willed, the uncompromising–– and you were you. And in many ways, you were like him: equally demanding, equally ambitious, equally unyielding.

“Let me go.”

* * *

Miya Atsumu is twenty-four and a little washed up when he calls you for the first time in a year. In said year, he’s dated three models, crashed two sports cars, and won first place at the V.League Division 1 Men’s Volleyball Tournament setting for the MSBY Black Jackals. Not in that particular order. Most people would say that he's on top of the world.

But he's tired. It's not as great as it seems.

You were supposed to have been there as he raised the trophy in the air, finally victorious. You’re supposed to be _here_ , right now, on the left side of his bed, legs intertwined with his, hands running through his hair, humming a song you heard on the radio earlier.

With a thudding heart and his reckless admission hanging in the air, Atsumu stares up at the bedroom ceiling. The hand holding the phone to his ear shakes.

Images from the day you left are still playing in his head. Truthfully, they never fully leave. Sometimes, when he’d found a new pretty thing to distract himself with, your tears would slip beneath his consciousness. When he drove fast enough down the highway with the wind smothering his lungs, the gravity of your retreating steps would lift from his chest. When he was on the court, he could forget you to win. Maybe that’d been the problem.

And then, he hears you inhale on the other side.

_“Can I show ya that I’m different from before?” he begged._


End file.
